The Dreaded Love Triangle and Other Spooky Tales
by SewerUrchin
Summary: During the annual Mode work retreat, love, jealousy, hijinks, and all of that good stuff ensue!  Oh, and I don't own Ugly Betty, its characters, or any companies and brandnames mentioned.  I have no money so don't sue.  Anyway, enjoy.
1. Chapter 1: Ascent Into Purgatory

**The Dreaded Love Triangle and Other Spooky Tales: Chapter One**

Hi, everyone! This is my first fanfic ever, so be gentle ;) Huge Betty/Daniel shipper here so be forewarned that I don't write for any other UB pairing, at least in the long-term. I know, I'm biased like that. Anyway, hope you like it!

Also, I realize the first chapter is kinda slow-moving but it will pick up soon. Just laying the groundwork.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ugly Betty or any of its characters; if I did, it would be the Daniel and Betty Show. So please don't sue. Please.**

**Description: When the employees of Mode go on a work retreat, hijinks, love, jealously and all that good stuff occurs. Somewhat based on a comment Michael Urie made in the Ugly Betty Season 1 DVD. AU.**

**Pairing: BxD all the way, babay!**

**Chapter One: Ascent Into Purgatory**

When the plane began its ascent, Betty Suarez, as was her habit, had a mild panic attack. She reached for Vincent Bianchi's hand from where he sat beside her, poring over layout ideas—her fiancé, the workaholic. Vince squeezed her hand.

"You okay, Sunshine?" he asked. It was his pet name for her because of her happy demeanor, hopelessly cheesy, but she adored it.

She ignored her boss Daniel Meade's derisive snort from somewhere to her right, and didn't even justify it by bothering to shoot him a dirty look. He had been petulant and downright cranky for some weeks now, ever since she'd gotten engaged…"I will be once we reach cruising altitude—until then, Dramamine is my friend," she said weakly.

"Screw Dramamine," said a voice from the seat behind her, "This'll take the edge off." Becks handed her a silver flask containing an alcohol probably outlawed in most states, obviously already blitzed. "Then you can come back here with me." The photojournalist waggled his eyebrows and grinned lasciviously at her. Betty tried to suppress a grin. Becks was harmless…well, mostly, and gorgeous and obnoxious totally.

"Leave her alone Becks," Daniel growled. He knew that the vast majority of people found it extremely odd that playboy Daniel Meade, Editor-in-Chief of Mode Magazine, put his, well, _unconventional_ assistant Betty Suarez on a pedestal well above that of any other woman he'd ever known. She was his best friend, his confidante, and his rock when his over-privileged world spun crazily; he felt closer to her than his own blood relatives and as fiercely protective of her as any big brother. That being established, he didn't like Becks hitting on her, even in jest. At least he hoped it was in jest. Since Betty had become engaged to Vincent Bianchi, men had seemed to suddenly realize the now-unattainable Betty's charm, seeing what Vincent and Daniel already knew was there. Daniel knew Becks would never be good enough for _his_ Betty; besides, she was now happily engaged to a man Daniel grudgingly approved of, and if Becks started to display any real interest in her, he would nip that in the bud right damn quick.

Vincent, without looking up, said calmly albeit unnecessarily loudly, "I thought this was a retreat for Mode employees only, Becks." Becks shot a drunkenly fearful glance at the back of Bradford Meade's head.

"Hell, if Mandy can bring her ugly, funky-smelling mutt...," he gestured at Amanda, her dog Halston, and Marc, "Daniel can bring me."

"Don't talk about Marc that way!" Amanda protested. "Just because he's been having a bad hair MONTH, and obviously fell, bumped his head, got amnesia, and forgot how to moisturize AND deodorize…"

"He was referring to Halston, Mandy" Marc snapped wearily. Betty looked over at them. Their bickering was starting to get on her nerves; she wasn't a mean-spirited person ordinarily, but now she wished that if the theory about dogs and their owners looking alike sooner or later were true, it would happen to Amanda and Halston, and sooner rather than later.

"Did someone turn up the air-conditioning all of a sudden?" Daniel asked, breaking into her sour thoughts. At that precise moment, Wilhelmina Slater strode past, haughtily ignoring them, seated herself on Bradford's lap, and shot a pointed look at Daniel to gage his reaction.

"Oh, it's just Wilhelmina …I thought I felt an icy blast," Daniel turned and said to Betty, just as pointedly. Betty and Daniel shared a grin, and Betty felt momentarily relieved. She hoped this retreat away from the hassles of Mode would cause Daniel to open up to her about what had been irking him lately. She was willing to do just about anything to bridge the gaping chasm that had subtly and inexplicably opened up between them.

**I crave feedback, so please do! Any suggestions that help me improve are most welcome...Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2: Descent Into Hell

**Chapter Two: Descent into Hell**

It was Heaven, absolutely Heaven, Betty thought as they practically fell out of the Mode private jet and into a mountain paradise. She was so caught up by the beauty surrounding them that she let out a squeak of surprise and pleasure when Vincent grabbed her from behind, spun her around and pulled her into a kiss. Daniel took that moment to brush past them—_unnecessarily close_, Vincent thought as he felt Betty stiffen in his arms at the negative vibes Daniel was giving off. Even Halston was cowering in Amanda's arms, his tail between his legs.

Vincent, too, had noticed Daniel's odd behavior of late. Daniel and Vincent's interactions had been amiable ever since Betty and Daniel had tag-teamed him into working for Mode. He had vaguely considered Daniel a friend. Lately, though, Daniel had been professional yet cold as Vincent, Daniel and Betty stayed late into the night going over ideas for the next issue. Vincent was trying not to take it as a personal affront, and for a while he'd chalked it up to all the pressure Daniel was under. After all, anybody who was about to get Wilhelmina Slater as a stepmother was entitled to a little patience and sympathy.

He'd even understood how Daniel could be jealous—due to the engagement, Daniel was no longer the leading man in Betty's life, and while she was as efficient at her job as ever, she and Daniel could no longer roam New York City after-hours, crashing wedding receptions for free cake (and bridesmaids) or going out for pizza and karaoke. Yes, Vincent understood as well as anyone the need to have Betty Suarez in one's life.

But Vincent's patience with Daniel Meade was about to run out, and he had a horrible feeling the shit was going to hit the fan this weekend in one way or another…

**I know, another slowish (and shortish) chapter but we're getting to the good stuff next chapter, I promise! Reviews give me warm fuzzies******** so please do! Next chapter…our fave conniving fashionistas, Marc and Amanda, get up to some mischief…**


	3. Chapter 3: Cabin 13

**Chapter Three: Cabin 13 (aka The Seventh Circle of Hell)**

"So, how about making this our pre-honeymoon?" Vincent smirked, his arm around Betty, as they trudged up the hill to find their lodgings.

"Down, boy," Betty laughed. Although she was definitely interested --_Sweet Lord, was she_ _interested—_she was a bit preoccupied with how she was going to bring up the subject of his own toxicity to Daniel. In general, she thought, people don't like to hear what _you _think their problem is.

Meanwhile, Marc and Amanda stood holding their room keys, already bored. The only sign of life they'd seen so far was Halston relieving himself and Daniel stomping past grumbling that he needed a shower, which caused Amanda to be lost in reverie for a moment. To make things even moderately interesting, Amanda had flirted shamelessly with the desk clerk in order to receive the chart listing everybody's room numbers. Now they were halftheartedly and jetlaggedly planning this weekend's mischief. Amanda read aloud from the list to Marc. "Dadford, I mean Bradford, and Satan's Handmaiden are shacked up in Cabin 1—too big a risk of getting our pretty, well-toned asses fired if we tried anything there, and besides ewww, Becks and Miss What's-her-slut are in Cabin 4, which wouldn't be as much fun because Becks is shameless about his kinky misadventures, so no possibility for blackmail there, and awww, Daniel's all by his lonesome in the shower in Cabin 13, maybe he could use some company…"

"Don't even, Mandy" Marc said firmly. "The only way to get over your crush on Daniel, and don't contradict me because it's sadly obvious you haven't yet," he said as Amanda opened her mouth to protest, "is to avoid him. Understood? Now, who's next?" Dejectedly Amanda muttered, "Betty and Vincent in Cabin 5."

At that moment, Vincent and Betty walked in. "Baby, I'm going to have a smoke because if I don't have one I'll be about as pleasant as Daniel," Vincent said. In the rare (for her) spirit of choosing her battles, Betty decided to ignore Vincent's gross habit and find out their cabin number from the desk clerk currently staring at Amanda's ass.

Neither saw Marc and Amanda slip the desk clerk a twenty.

"It's Cabin 13," Betty reported to Vincent a few minutes later.

"After my smoke, I'm going to our cabin and taking a nice, hot shower," Vincent said.

"Maybe I'll join you," Betty grinned. "I just have a few things to take care of first." She left him and headed over to Marc and Amanda. "Ok guys, look…" Betty began, "I know we're frenemies and all, but try to behave yourselves this weekend, ok? It's really important that I make things right with Daniel and convince Vincent that I'm truly on board with this whole marriage deal, and if either of you can summon up any humanity in your shriveled, black, trendy little hearts…"

"Quick Marc, get out your cell and take a picture, we found the yeti! And it's taking at us!" Amanda quipped. In an exaggerated baby-talk voice, Marc said, "Who's a good yeti? Nice yeti!" Marc straightened up. "Seriously, Yeti Suarez, the two of us are WAY to jetlagged and hung-over from whatever the HELL that was in Beck's flask to start any trouble."

Not really comforted, Betty trudged off to Cabin 13 for a hot shower.

Betty tried the handle of Cabin 13 and found it unlocked. _Vincent wasn't lying about his_ _smoke break being quick, _Betty thought somewhat absently as she saw steam billowing out of the bathroom accompanied by the sound of running water. She took a moment to take in the swanky furnishings in the room. _Rustic, my foot_, she thought, somewhat amused. The Meade's version of rustic no doubt included any place with more trees than Central Park.

Shrugging, she stepped out of her clothes and into the bathroom. Through the steam and the opaque shower door, she could barely see her dark-haired fiancé. "Ready or not, here I come!" she giggled. She didn't have time to register the muffled "What the…?" coming from inside before she had thrown the shower door open to reveal her very naked boss and oh-so-platonic-it's-ridiculous best friend Daniel.

**As usual, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4: Holy Shtuff

Chapter Four: "Holy Shtuff."

The moment was priceless, and not in a good way. As she and Daniel stood staring stupidly at each other, Betty numbly realized this was not a moment she and Daniel would look back on and laugh when they were old and gray and she was bringing him his coffee and onion bagel with light cream cheese and they were lightheartedly bantering as she recited his morning messages. They'd seen each other naked and there was no going back for either of them. The thought alerted her shell-shocked mind to the fact that they were, in fact, naked, and she shrieked the first words that seemed appropriate: "HOLY SHTUFF!!!"

Daniel, who'd at the same time remembered who he was ogling and averted his eyes, dryly commented, "Betty, if there was ever a time to use the actual curse word, I think now would be it."

Betty scrambled for a towel, which was the only thing at hand, leaving Daniel to stumble past her on mad dash to grab the sheets off the bed and cover himself.

After a moment, Betty gingerly sat down beside him on the bed, keeping a safe distance, Daniel noted grimly. Usually, when speaking of matters of grave importance or stuff that just plain freaked her out, Betty would sit very near, her head tilted up to watch his eyes as she explained her problem. In general, they weren't the kind of BFFs that were touchy-feely, like Marc and Amanda, but it wasn't unheard of for her to rest her head on his shoulder for a moment and he, in turn would rest his cheek on her hair and put his arm around her. He cherished these moments with her as the most wonderfully uncomplicated and loving friendship he'd ever had or would ever have. The physical contact was notably absent now, and made his chest ache strangely. Betty seeing him naked, although weird and unfortunate given the nature of their relationship, didn't bother Daniel in and of itself. He mentally berated himself for thinking in the same moment that seeing her naked didn't bother him, either. But she, being Betty, _and_ _a bit of a prude_, he thought affectionately, was wigged out beyond the telling of it, and it naturally bothered him to see her upset.

Betty spoke first. "I'm so sorry, Daniel," she said shakily. "I thought you were…"

"Vincent? I know, Betty." Daniel said calmly, warily, and a little sadly, Betty noted.

"You've got that look," Betty observed, slightly annoyed and amused despite her current mortification.

"No, I don't." Daniel shifted uncomfortably; as usual, she was onto him…which led to thoughts about Betty being onto him in more ways than one, and _stop it, Daniel!_ Like it or not, the image of Naked!Betty was a pleasant kind of torture that was now burned into his brain whether he liked it or not.

They stared at each other skeptically for a second, then they both snorted with laughter.

"Yeah, the 'if I don't make any sudden movements, she won't bite' look," Betty teased.

Daniel chuckled. "Don't be so smug, I'm not the only one sporting a look. You've got the 'I've just seen Daniel Meade's ass and I liked it' look."

Betty reached over and playfully smacked him on the back of the head. They both sobered a little, then Daniel seriously, "Betty, are you really ok? The last thing I want, ever, is for you to be afraid of me or awkward around me. That would kill me, Betty." He was giving her the soulful blue eyes, and Betty knew she was completely, irrevocably lost; she might as well admit it to herself if to no one else, and especially never to Vincent, _oh God, never to Vincent_—she was a slave to those blue eyes of Daniel Meade's.

Betty, making sure the towel was secure around her, impulsively pulled him into a hug like she did sometimes, and replied, "Of course I'm ok, Daniel. _We're_ ok. After we get all un-naked, which should be happening, like, five minutes ago, there _is_ something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

A voice rang out from down the hall, growing increasingly closer. "Daniel, have you seen Betty, I've been looking all over for…" At that moment, Vincent Bianchi, her fiancé, her love, her currently eerily quiet soon-to-be-husband, walked into the room.


	5. Chapter 5: Jerry Springeresque

**Chapter Five: "It's Not What It Looks Like, Sweetie!" (Except it kind of is on some level)**

Betty was well aware of how it must have looked. She and Daniel ManWhore McMeade, soaking wet and embracing while tangled up in towels and disheveled bed sheets. Of course, the towels and bed sheets were strategically placed, but Betty doubted Vincent noted these details, what with the vein throbbing in his forehead and all, and even if he had noticed, she was fairly certain it wouldn't be enough to keep him from killing Daniel.

For his part, Daniel felt as creepily calm as Bianchi (aside from the Freaky Throbbing Vein of Ultimate Pissed-Offitude) appeared to be at that moment. Everything appeared to happen in slow motion: Vincent started toward them slowly and deliberately. Betty, always risking her own neck to protect his (in his own view) pretty much worthless ass, didn't fail to deliver. She placed her small frame directly between him and Vincent, and it occurred to Daniel, at that moment, _I will kill anyone or anything that hurts or_ _disappoints her in any way, ever again_. He was as sure of this as he knew the Earth was round.

He suddenly snapped back into focus, and saw Betty cringe as Vincent moved to touch her; Vincent, up until that point, had moved with a silent, deadly determination. Now he exploded. "Christ, Betty, did you think I was going to hit you?!! I was going to pick you up, sling you over my shoulder, and lock you out of this room so you don't have to see me throttle this son of a bitch!" Daniel, too, had thought Vince meant to hit Betty before moving on to him, and had been poised to strike accordingly if he harmed one hair on her head. Vincent, however, was still screaming at Betty, who was trying to get a word in edgewise, "So that's what you think of me, huh? That's how much you trust me, thinking I would ever hurt you, the woman I love more than anything? I can't be here right now, I just can't…" He turned and left the room.

"Oh, God, what've I done?" Betty moaned.

"Not your fault, Betty. Not yours, or mine, or Vincent's…God, what a mess of Jerry-Springer-esque proportions." He buried his face in his hands. A thought occurred to him. "What a sec, why did you think you and Vincent were staying in this cabin, anyway? The desk clerk had a list right there, he checked me in, and he had to have known this cabin was occupied when he told you your room number…"

Betty and Daniel looked at each other. "Marc and Amanda" they said in deadpan unison.

"I've got to find Vincent before I murder the Satanic Duo in their sleep," Betty said jumping up. "Well, I'll put on something other than a towel and then find Vincent," she amended.

**Feedback? Just press the little button!**


	6. Chapter 6: Observations

**Chapter 6: Observations**

Betty found Vincent leaning against a tree not far from the Fateful Cabin, smoking. "I decided to take an extended smoke break after all," he said with a humorless laugh. Betty attempted to wrap her arms around him from behind, but he pulled away.

"Fair enough," she said. "Will you at least hear me out? I know this will sound lame in every way possible, but it really wasn't what it looked like. Marc and Amanda…"

"So is that were you've been for the past few weeks?" Vincent interrupted.

"What do you mean? Because if you're insinuating that I've been having some kind of ongoing affair with Daniel Meade, you are so far out of line…" she began, outraged.

"Oh, I know you've been physically faithful to me," Vincent said in that emotionless, flat tone that chilled her to the bone. "I'm only asking because every time I hold you, you're heart's obviously not with me. It's with Daniel, isn't it? Like today, getting off the jet. I tried to kiss you, hold you, but the second Daniel breezed past in his sexually frustrated huff, you tensed up in my arms like that." Vincent snapped his fingers. "I tried to dismiss it as my imagination, but I thought I felt you begin to pull away from me to go after him. That wasn't my imagination, was it Betty?"

Betty, tears rolling down her cheeks replied, with as much dignity as she could muster, "I have done nothing to merit such a lack of trust…God, it's killing me to hear you talk like this, where is this even coming from? From the shower incident? You're going to let Marc and Amanda's stupid pranks tear us apart?"

"God, have you been listening to a word I've been saying? I should probably send Marc and Mandy a gift basket or something because it opened my eyes. I saw you in his arms on that bed, I saw your face and his, too, and Betty, I've never once seen such an expression of pure happiness on your face…isn't that something? I'm your freakin' _fiancé_, and I've never once seen you look that happy. But I'll bet Daniel knows that look, he knows all your looks. I've never seen two people so in tune with one another. And here I tried to make myself believe it was just him..."

"And what does that even mean, 'I tried to make myself believe it was just him'"? Betty sobbed. "Baby, you're not making any sense!"

"For a smart woman, you sure can be blind sometimes. Betty, the reason Daniel's had such a mad-on these past few weeks, ever since our _engagement_, ringing any bells? He's in love with you, okay? And I can't even have the satisfaction of blaming him for it. I know all the ways a man can fall in love with Betty Suarez, and now I'm feeling all the ways a man can die from loving her so much." Vincent's voice finally gave way to raw emotion.

"Vincent, I love you, you _know_ this!" Betty protested, but even to her own ears her words sounded childish, petulant, and ineffectual. And she hated sounding childish, petulant and ineffectual, so she settled for cold dignity. "Well, your obviously determined to completely kill me tonight, and right now I'm having trouble remaining upright, so I'll leave you and your imagination alone for the time being, Vince."

As she started to half-walk, half-stagger off, he pulled her back gently. She didn't even have the energy to pull away like he'd pulled away from her, right before their entire future together collapsed under the weight of his crazy delusions. "I don't doubt that you love me, Sunshine," he said, smoothing her hair. "It's just that me and Daniel's places in your heart have been reversed. I get the platonic love and he gets…well, you know the rest. Just making some observations, Betty." With one last touch of her cheek, he walked off without looking back.

Betty watched him for a moment. "Observations," she whispered, and she too walked away in the opposite direction, toward Cabin 13. She didn't look back.


	7. Chapter 7: AWKWARD!

**Author's note: I want to thank all my reviewers so much for their kindness! You guys make me blush like a schoolgirl ;)**

Ch. 7: A-w-k-w-a-r-d!

When your morning kicks off with a 5 am phone call from the man whose fiancé you'd unwittingly stole last night, it's a safe bet things were about to get hairy. Daniel had fully expected to get his face smashed in by Bianchi, but, no, he just wanted Daniel to make the arrangements to have the company jet take him back to New York. His engagement with Betty was off, Vincent told him, but, like a true professional, he would remain a Mode photographer. The meeting had been very civil, if a bit understandably cold (well, sub-zero actually) and the two men even managed to shake hands.

Vincent paused to look back at Daniel. "Look, I don't know how much she's told you about what went down between us last night—and I'll leave that up to her, so never ask me, Meade. But just so you know, I can't give you two my blessing yet, if ever. I wish I could do that, be the bigger man for her happiness, but as of right now it's just not gonna happen. I'm also not gonna waste breath asking you to take care of her because I know you will. You always…" Vincent drew in a shuddering breath and disappeared into the inky night to wait for the jet before Daniel could reply that he was sorry for his part, if any, that he'd played in the shit storm that was last night's debacle. He had a sinking feeling that he'd been an absent yet essential key player in the Vincent/Betty Implosion of '07.

By 9 am, Vincent Bianchi was gone, and Daniel had long since crawled back into bed beside Betty. Vince needn't have told Daniel the status of his and Betty's engagement. Last night, Betty had drifted back from the woods like a sleepwalker, dried tears on her cheeks, but with a more pensive than heartbroken expression on her lovely, unique little face. Of course, Daniel had been waiting up for her in his now infamous Cabin 13. When she'd knocked on his door, he'd known it was her.

"It's over," she'd said needlessly, for he'd known that from the first clear view of her face. But then, his sweet Betty always did have a habit of stating the obvious. She'd moved silently past him, padded over to his bed, and wordlessly crawled in. He'd promptly gotten in beside her (clothes still intact, of course, all very annoyingly proper) and just held her until the 5 am Wake-Up Call of Doom and Justifiably Pissed Ex-Fiancés of Betty Suarez. He wondered if they made a ring-tone for that.

When Daniel and Betty emerged from Cabin 13 that morning, rumpled and with their respective hair sticking out in all different directions, naturally they met Marc, Amanda and Becks. Marc and Amanda were delighted beyond the telling of it. They snickered, looked at each other, and declared "AWKWARD!" in perfect unison. Linking arms, they pranced down the hall to the dining quarters for a breakfast of diet pills and fat-free yogurt (to be puked up immediately, of course.)

Betty, who up until this point had been as zombified as she'd been last night, watched Marc and Mandy's retreating figures slink down the hall for a moment, looked up at Daniel with puffy eyes, and simply stated, "It is SO on." She then shuffled off down the hall in her puppy slippers. Daniel, relieved at seeing the only sign of life in her since approximately 8 pm the previous night, muttered with a smirk, "Let slip the dogs of war, Marc and Mandy."

Becks, who had not even bothered to hide the fact that he'd been ogling Betty's butt as she left, clapped an arm around Daniel and said, with his usual subtle tact, "Dude, did you tap that? NICE. I must say, I'm a little jealous. Not really my type, that one, but like I always say, it's the innocent, sweet, virginal-looking ones that you gotta look out for. Man, I'll bet she can put it on ya like a…"

_Oh, spectacular_, Daniel thought, rolling his eyes as Becks rambled on in his particular amiable brand of profanity. He would not have Becks sniffing at her heels after everything that had happened with Bianchi. Furthermore, he was even surprised at how rapidly pissed he was getting hearing what Becks was saying in relation to Betty. _Must_ _not hit Becks, must not hit Becks, oh, what the hell..._ and with that, Daniel turned and knocked Becks for a loop in more ways than one.

"Ow, man, what the hell was that for?! Not cool, you crazy joker…" Becks cried from the floor, perplexed.

"Next time, you'll be carrying your teeth in a baggie," Daniel smirked and walked off. He knew Becks wouldn't really take it personally or hold it against him, and sure enough, within a few seconds, Becks was back striding beside him and yakking on about his sex-capades with some random model last night. Becks was not as stupid as he sometimes appeared to be, and Daniel was pleased to note that he seemed to have gotten it through his thick skull not to talk about Betty that way anymore.

Daniel always felt vaguely guilty when he interacted with Becks. Hell, not long ago he _was_ Becks, bragging about his many conquests and objectifying women as shamelessly as Becks had just been objectifying Betty. Not that he was a choir-boy now, but at least he was aware now of the consequences of his womanizing ways. He let Beck's voice blessedly become background noise and continued toward the dining quarters, as usual gravitating toward Betty.

**This is shaping up to be one long-ass fic, and I'm enjoying every minute of writing it. I'm going for a more "realistic" progression of D/B's relationship, 'cause we all know it'll take FOREVER on the actual show. Besides, I take sadistic pleasure in torturing you guys;) As usual, I crave any thoughts and/or suggestions, so please review!**


	8. Chapter 8: KissKiss, BangBang

**Sorry for the delay in updating this story. I had boring college papers to write. But here's Chapter 8. Many thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed my humble, long-winded fic. More to come, I promise:)**

Chapter 8: What the Fudge?

There were a gazillion reasons Daniel shouldn't have kissed Betty. One was the black eye he was currently sporting. Another, more major, reason was the fact that Betty was his best friend and uber-soulmate, and one that'd only recently broken off her engagement to a man she loved at that.

_Vincent Bianchi_, thought Betty, wrapped up in her own thoughts as tightly as she'd been wrapped in Daniel's arms on the pier earlier. _A_ man she loved but not _the_ man she loved. The lucky man in question was walking right beside her, in fact, lost in his own thoughts as well.

Betty hoped for a bear to jump out and eat them so they wouldn't have to face the other Mode employees, but especially each other. Just like a girl who's lost her virginity thinks she has "I had sex" stamped on her forehead for the world to see, thought Betty wryly. Daniel, too, was hoping for the proverbial bear—at least if they were eaten, they'd digest together in the bear's stomach, which was more one-on-one time than he was likely to get from Betty anytime soon.

The day had all started innocently enough. Daniel had punched out Becks and went to sit with Betty in the dining quarters. Over a gallon of Cherry Garcia ice cream, they'd planned their sweet revenge on Marc and Mandy and, if they had time, Wili and Bradford just for fun. After all, Marc and Mandy were the perpetrators of Shower-Gate, and the only offense Wili and Bradford had committed so far on this trip was having lots of old people sex. (The walls were paper-thin, and Betty and Daniel had taken turns giggling and making gag-me faces until real repulsion had started to set in. This had been brought on by Betty's comment that Daniel was laughing now, but by next week the sex-tape would be circulating around online). They'd then proceeded to the woods, where they tried to scrounge up an unsuspecting critter to drop down Amanda's blouse or Marc's pants, whichever opportunity presented itself first. Juvenile, yes, and a bit uninspired, but it would do for shits and giggles. Anyway, they were both still reeling from seeing each other buck naked the night before, and it was the best revenge they could come up with under the circumstances.

Betty'd made clear that if Daniel was so set on a lizard, he'd have to catch it his own damn self. Daniel was equally adamant that he have nothing to do with the skunk she was currently baby-talking. So they'd struck a deal: he'd do any dropping of the lizard, and she'd figure out something to do with the skunk. Maybe slip it into Wili and Bradford's bed? The possibilities were endless with a skunk, she'd argued; besides, it was a three for one deal—the shock, the smell, and the shock from the smell.

They'd stopped to rest on the ground briefly, Daniel adoringly thinking how Betty could even charm the stink off a skunk and Betty thinking how, if Daniel became the next Crocodile Hunter due to his proficiency at catching lizards, he'd better host every episode with his shirt off. It was hotter than Bradford Meade in a room full of half-naked, half-his-age models that day, and Betty looked longingly at the cool water in the pond. Daniel followed her gaze. This had potential.

_God, what am I thinking? This is the kind of plot that would be brewing in my head if a six-foot, blonde, boobalicious lingerie model were sitting beside me, _Daniel immediately guiltily thought. _But this isn't some vapid bimbo, this is __**Betty. **__Who's now stripping down and heading toward the pond, ooo-kay, here I go…"_

Betty comforted herself with the thought that, technically, they weren't skinny-dipping. They both had a reasonable amount of clothes (cough-underwear-cough) on, enough to cover their respective naughty bits but not enough to bog them down, and there was absolutely no way she was considering fake-drowning so he could give her CPR_. Does he even know CPR…God, it would be sexy if he did, and now he's giving me that Cheshire Cat grin of his…what's he up to?_

Daniel comforted himself with the thought that since they'd already seen each other naked, he was in no way, shape, or form affected by Naked!Betty…_nothing to see, move it along, best friends here, after all, been there, ogled that, OVER IT_, and there was absolutely no way he was considering fake-drowning so he'd have an excuse to duck under the water…

For a while, they played around and splashed one another, each pretending the other wasn't spectacularly turning them on. All bets were off when Betty "got a cramp." She'd done this many times during her childhood. Ignacio charged Hilda with looking out for Betty on outings to the pool, a task Hilda mightily resented because it kept her from sneaking off to make out with Santos in the locker room. "Any sign that my baby's in trouble, you get out there and rescue her," Papi would say sternly. "She's not as strong a swimmer as you, and she has asthma." Betty felt it was her right as the put-upon little sister to use this to her advantage, of course. So every ten minutes or so, Betty would pretend to have a cramp, doubling over and disappearing under the water. Hilda would grudgingly pry herself off of Santos and dive in after her, carrying her out of the pool in her arms.

Daniel knew good and well Betty wasn't drowning or cramping or whatever the hell she was pretending to do, but he wasn't about to look a gift Betty in the mouth. So he proceeded to dive under the water, where he could've sworn she was trying not to laugh, wrapped her in his arms, and carried her onto the pier.

Despite Amanda's bitchy claims otherwise, Betty weighed next to nothing. He lay her down on the pier where she her eyes remained carefully closed.

"Betty? This has been fun, but it's time to open your eyes, okay? The sun is setting and we need to be heading back if we want to unleash the critters on Marc and Mandy. Betty?" Now Daniel was actually starting to worry. _Girl, if you are playing me, I will kill you myself, revive you, then take you back to my cabin and ravish you…_

"Alright, ha-ha, funny," Daniel gave a nervous laugh. _Oh, screw it…_ He kissed her. Lip-to-lip, full-on smooch. No damnable best-friendly kiss on the forehead or cheek, was this. He wasn't even surprised when she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. The idea that this was Daniel's first kiss would've made anyone who even glanced at the tabloids out of the corner of their eye in the supermarket laugh. But it was the first kiss in his entire man-whoring, boozing, live fast, die young-and-leave-a-really-good-looking-corpse existence that had ever meant the world to him. _I'm falling_, he thought vaguely, _I'm falling for her…lost to her…nothing left for anyone else, she gets all of me…_

He was surprised, however, when she wrenched herself away from him and punched him in the eye.

_I'm a tease_, Betty thought. _I'm one of __**those**__ girls…a Mode girl at last. Amanda would_ _be proud_, she thought bitterly. She didn't know whether she should be comforted or disconcerted about the fact that, not-so-deep-down she realized there was nothing teasing about her kiss with Daniel. Nothing they could laugh off as being big-brotherly, best-friendly, or just one of their elaborate pranks between buddies. Punching Daniel in the eye, now that was an out-of-body experience. She hadn't meant to, and, as awkward as these after-moments with him were, he seemed to understand. If she were to apply the pop psychology that she always rolled her eyes at, she would say her lashing out at Daniel was really her lashing out with fright at the thought of losing her better half, her voice of reason, her reality-check all wrapped up in the really ripped body of Daniel Meade.

So here they were, on the looong trek back, neither of them speaking to the other and a skunk and a lizard between them.

**Please review...I love it so!**


	9. Chapter 9:  Reckoning

**Chapter 9: Reckoning**

Daniel sat on the rim of the tub in Cabin 13. For a while, Betty had stood straddling his lap, dabbing at his swollen, multicolored eye with an icepack. It was now purple, green, yellow, blue, and black.

"That figures," he snarked, looking ruefully into the mirror. "Even the shiners you hand out come in festive colors…it's sparkly, even." Betty responded by dropping the icepack down his boxers.

Daniel was relieved that they'd both seemed to have mentally, emotionally, and physically thrown up their hands and said "screw it" to the awkwardness that had plagued them on their trek back through the woods. After all, what with "Shower-Gate" now accompanied by "Betty-and-Daniel-Made-Out-On-The–Pier-Gate," they didn't really have many options as to where to go from there—they could either have an honest talk for the first time in weeks or they could have sex. Or both. Daniel knew something had to give, and Betty knew it, too.

Funny, even while trying to fish an icepack out of his boxers, yet another discomfort courtesy of Betty, the thought of sex with her was all kinds of enticing, and he wasn't even going to waste the two brain cells he had left after kissing her by trying to deny it anymore.

He noted with amusement and delight that after ten minutes of trying to straddle his lap, Betty finally rolled her eyes, sighed in her dramatic, bizarre Disney-princess Betty way, and plunked down on his lap, where she began brushing first his eyelids, then his jaw, then all over with feather-light kisses. He knew that if his lips met hers, they'd never get that heart-to-heart chat they both so desperately needed. Instead, the bathtub would probably end up being used for a purpose somewhat different than what the manufacturer intended. So Daniel forcefully dragged his brain from its current location and back into his skull, something he'd had exactly zero experience doing before he'd met Betty.

"Betty, we have to talk now," he panted, resting his forehead against hers. She responded by making another dive for his lips, but he gently but firmly restrained her. "You're probably going to laugh at the role reversal later, when we're not so, well, horny," Daniel began. "But trust me, Betty, we owe it to our relationship and ourselves to discuss what's happening here." He could practically hear Becks gagging from the dark recesses of his mind—_Honestly, Daniel, do you pee sitting down now, too? Go for it! _Fortunately, he now had even less problem telling Becks to shut up mentally than face-to-face.

"Yeah, we need to talk, Mister," Betty gasped, visibly struggling to reign herself in. She slumped forward and rested her head on his shoulder.

"You've probably been wondering what's caused me to be so pissy at work lately," he murmured into her hair. "I'm sorry, by the way."

"Man PMS," Betty snorted weakly. "Evidence everywhere, but it's never been proven. Like Bigfoot."

"If only. It was you and Vincent, Betty. The engagement…part of me was so proud of you, so happy for you. Vincent's a great guy who actually deserved you. At the same time, though, the whole situation was killing me. From the moment you guys announced your engagement, I was so spun, Betty. At first, I couldn't pinpoint what was irking me and that frustrated me even more. From that night on, whenever you couldn't contact me on my cell, I was busy banging every supermodel I could reach and drinking myself into a big, rancid, sorry puddle of nothing. You know, my usual methods of coping."

He felt Betty stiffen in his arms. "Why are you telling me this?" she choked out, even as the pieces were slowly but surely falling into place, even as she and Daniel were doing the same.

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his, reached out, wiped a tear off her cheek. "I'm getting there, trust me. I was reverting…it was just like before I ever met you, except I _had_ met you. Even though you didn't know who I was sleeping with, how bloated and sodden and pathetic I was becoming, all those women were a way to get back at you somehow, for leaving me, for not choosing me, even though you didn't even know I was an option. I knew how disappointed you'd be in how I was living my life, and I reveled in it, even as it was tearing me apart. See, I told you I'm pathetic," Daniel broke off sadly, on seeing Betty's shell-shocked look. "I…I wasn't angry at you, not really…there was no reason to be. I always knew that if you married Bianchi, I wouldn't be able to see you, be near you as much, but even through my drunken stupor I couldn't convince myself that that was the only reason the engagement disturbed me so. I wanted you, _want_ you, for myself. You're the best part of me, Betty. Even I, a notoriously emotionally retarded Meade, figured that out. That's where the women factored in…none of them were you, I didn't even attempt to pretend they were. That was kind of the point. They were my safety net for when you married Vincent, a way to convince myself I could ever live without you. Obviously that didn't work out so well."

He stopped his fumbling explanation because Betty was looking at him oddly. "I love you, too, Daniel Meade."

For Daniel, conditioned from years of experience of Bradford telling him love was a weakness, a flaw, a liability, the word was terrifying. And the single most exhilarating experience of his life.

"That's what you're trying to say, isn't it?" She kissed him on the forehead. "Since we're holding confession here, I might as well fess up to my sin," she sighed. "The reason Vincent and I broke up…Daniel, he figured it out. Had some, shall we say, observations about the way things are between us…that I know you better than I'll ever know Vincent and you know me better than he ever will. Regardless of how things end up with you and me, Daniel, I couldn't keep stringing him along. He's a wonderful man, and he deserves better."

"Better than you? Impossible."

"You know what I mean."

"I think I do."

"You know this, you and me, it's insane, right?" Betty sighed. "It's all well and good out here in the wilderness with the little frolicking Bambi's and majestic mountains, and the to-die-for sunsets. But we're going back to Mode soon, where there are no majestic mountains, just skyscrapers, the sunset is on the backdrop at a photo shoot, and Bambi is a six-ft tall, 80 lb., leggy supermodel who's going to be showing you her lingerie because it's part of her job and yours, probably crawling all over your lap in the process, and don't give me that look, it's not like I can't see straight into your office…"

Daniel silenced her with a kiss. He had a feeling he was going to be doing that a lot. "Bambi can't sit on my lap if you're already there," he stated simply.

"Insane," Betty repeated.

**I craves me some feedback...pleeease?**


	10. Chapter 10: Epilogue, or Something

**Well, gentle readers, I've had a blast writing this fic, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it! I'm wrapping this particular story up, but never fear, there shall be a sequel…if you want. Deep, sincere thanks to all my reviewers and readers…you're the reason I write. **

**Epilogue: Or Something **

The mood on the flight back to New York was noticeably more subdued than the embarking journey. It was the usual suspects, the Mode crew, minus the witty repartee, Beck's drunken flirting (he was currently passed out with his proclaimed future trophy wife on his lap), and one fiancé by the name of Vincent Bianchi.

Marc and Amanda sat in silence for once, Marc gazing out the window and Amanda clutching Halston to her breast with as close to a pensive look on her face as she was ever likely to be caught dead with. She glanced up and met Betty's eyes, and of course Marc turned as well. Betty winced, preparing herself for smirks that never came, as their eyes took in Betty and Daniel obvious new-couple-y status. Instead, there was something other than revulsion there, which Betty found oddly touching. Not approval, no, not by a long shot, but she couldn't help but feel she and Daniel had allies in the most unlikely places. And she and Daniel were going to need all the allies they could get if they were ever going to make this thing work. _What are frenemies for? Thanks Marc and Mandy_, she thought.

Daniel and Betty's plot to unleash the critters on Marc and Amanda turned out to be more satisfying in the conception/contemplation than in actual execution. By the time they'd sneaked into Marc and Amanda's cabin window, they were so wrapped up in each other that the best Daniel could manage was to halfheartedly sling the lizard somewhere in Amanda's general direction and not down her blouse, as was the original plan. Betty just released the skunk back into the wild altogether. She couldn't conjure up much of her previous roiling fury at the two, since their tasteless prank was responsible for her getting an eyeful of Naked!Daniel and ultimately their newfound Detty-ness. Or Baniel-ness? _Oh, whatever. We haven't even had sex yet, and I'm already thinking up cutesy ways to combine our names. Might as well say "Betty Meade." Or "Betty Suarez-Meade." Ooh, that has potential…_

Betty turned to Daniel to have a good drool/stare at him while he slept, his face squished against the window and leaving a ghastly smudge. His hair had long since lost its trademark meticulous, deliberate bed-head look and was now just plain tousled. Betty reached up to smooth it.

Daniel captured her hand, kissed it, and without opening his eyes, mumbled, "Betty, is there any particular reason you're staring at me?"

"Is there any particular reason why I_ wouldn't_ want to stare at you as much as I can?" Betty teased back.

"Well, no," he said with his patented brand of endearing conceit. He opened his eyes, the eyes of his father, but so much more alive. _How can there be so much warmth in such an icy blue color? _Betty marveled. She was suddenly taken back to that night on the bridge, their bridge, and a conversation:

"_Like a blizzard."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_You know…when the city stops and everything just…sparkles."_

And Daniel's resulting _look_…not just any old look but a _LOOK_, that'd made her weak in the knees even then.

They were interrupted from their reverie by the pilot's gung-ho announcement. "Mr. Meade, we're approaching the Meade Publications building if you'd like to look out your window to your right. I'm radioing the airport for permission to land. This shouldn't take long."

"Just bring her in whenever, Eric," Bradford said in his formal, austere, dismissive way. He didn't need to look…he already knew the full-scale majesty of his publishing empire, what he'd built.

Betty, however, leaned over Daniel and peered out the window to see the Meade logo, perched on the top of the building like a space-age gargoyle, shiny, silver, and confidently rotating, with hints of sharp cruelty but redeeming hints of promise, seemingly just like they left it, but somehow not.

Betty shook her head and smiled. _Goodbye mountains, hello to an even scarier kind of wilderness. Hello, again, Mode… Things are about to get interesting. _

**The end…for now.**

**Will Betty and Daniel's newfound love be able to survive the snarky, hellacious goodness of Mode? Who knows? **

**And, of course, there's always the B/D sex I never got around to. If that's not an excuse for a sequel, I don't know what is.**

**Please, please tell me what you think overall and/or specifically. Questions, comments, constructive criticism—I can't write better without it. Again, many thanks! Ta for now.**


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